My name is Damon K. Roberts and I am a candidate for City Council in the 2nd Councilmanic District of Philadelphia.

Over the last couple of days, I got a taste of what Al Gore must have felt like in 2000, getting differing and often opposing pieces of advice. You try to listen to people, to accept advice, to have a big enough tent to listen constructively, but ultimately you have to be your own man and make up your own mind.

I sat in Courtroom 425 much of yesterday, and then walked out of City Hall into the kind of weather that shuts Philadelphia down. As I paced back and forth in my own head all day, I had the rare chance on the campaign trail to stop long enough to redefine for myself what this campaign is all about.

Last Tuesday, March 6, as I turned in some 2975 petition signatures, I stood with other reformers and candidates outside Room 142 of City Hall. In a race that is too often overshadowed by the Mayor's race, and in which name recognition too often trumps good ideas, it was that rare opportunity when Philadelphia's City Council Candidates could speak to the mainstream media. No television attention, but the Daily News, the Inquirer and the free Metro were paying attention.

I told the press that I collected only 2975 signatures, because some had refused to sign the ballot for fear of retaliation or because others, in their cynicism, lumped me in with do-nothing politicians who don't do anything for the people until election time rolls around. I reminded the press that the overwhelming majority of people were eager to sign the petitions to put Damon Roberts on the ballot. I went on to say that each of the signatures told a story: one signature told the story of a woman whose two sons were shot and killed four days apart from each other - she's crying out for change; one signature told the story of a center city lawyer who pays taxes but can't get his trash picked up because he lives in a high rise building - he's crying out for change; and the all-too-familiar story of a parent who sends their child to a failing neighborhood school because she can't even afford the tokens to send her anywhere else - she's definitely crying out for change. These characters weren't created for effect. They were people that I had met on the campaign trail and I spoke with conviction. Having their ballots in my hands, I issued a call for incumbents to respect the people's call for reform and not to challenge petitions for frivolous reasons.

The next day Alex Urevick-Ackelsberg, my campaign manager, and I went back to Room 142 to look at Anna Verna's signatures. My campaign had thrown out hundreds, perhaps a thousand signatures, that looked like they could have been perceived as defective. As we stood there in Room 142, it was immediately apparent that my opponent had not used the same level of care. We asked for a copy of the statement of financial interests and left. Room 142 had given us one sheet that we pored over. Although there were some minor omissions, the biggest one that we found was that under the section asking what boards Verna was on, was one word: "none". This was odd, to say the least, given that the City's website lists board positions on several prominent non-profit organizations, including one relatively unknown organization known as the Board of City Trusts.

As we did our research, we stumbled on documents like a 2001 article about the Board of City Trusts, which is apparently spearheaded by Vince Fumo, and which controls $400-million dollars of money bequeathed to Philadelphia, and upon which Anna Verna sits. The article is quoted, in part, below:

City Trusts need busting
12/07/01
by Mark Alan Hughes

"Lifetime appointments are usually reserved for things like the Supreme Court. I know of only one job in all of American local government that's for life: the Board of Directors of City Trusts in Philadelphia.

And the big difference between being a Supreme Court justice and being on the Board of City Trusts is that the latter has a $400 million portfolio to control during that lifetime appointment, with virtually no one watching.

Now I only know what I read in the newspaper, but the City Trusts is the kind of situation that serves corrupt politicians very well.

Think of all the effort that's been expended on getting assurances about the mayor's proposed $250 million blight bond. This is almost twice as much money and the Board can make their "investment" decisions pretty much as they please. It's the kind of thing that makes the pinstripe patronage of bond underwriting look positively "small potatoes".

The judges of the Court of Common Pleas elect the Board in closed session. As seats come up, nominations to the Board are doled out by political insiders like so much, well, like so much dole. Usually, the political machine arranges the nominations and elections so that the Board operates like a private club."

So, we started to raise our collective eyebrows, wondering why an organization that administers $400-million wasn't listed on the financial disclosure sheet. It wasn't the rinky dink Mayor's Club referred to in the In Re Carroll case. I argued to myself that a politician's power doesn't come from their salary, but the resources they control. Between this and other problems with the disclosure form, this was easily distinguishable from the Carroll case, and, in my opinion, a fatal flaw to the petition. (Although we challenged her failure to, amongst other things, check a "public official" box on the form, this was not the source of our concern, as the Daily News reported.)

Our discussion started about whether to file the petition. One person argued that, regardless of the reason, it might look hypocritical for me to file a complaint against my opponent after speaking out so forcefully. It doesn't matter that you didn't commit not to file. Another adviser suggested, "You are David and she is Goliath. This is your rock." The first one responded, "We're going to win, money or no money. We don't need this petition challenge."

I debated back and forth. File, don't file. File, don't file. What settled it for me was not a strategic decision to get her knocked off, but when I made the connection between the control of those resources and the way that some community leaders were afraid to support me publicly. They were surviving, holding on the crumbs that fell from the mistress' table and, while they agreed with me philosophically, they couldn't be perceived to be supportive. In other words, Verna's control of, or at least influence over, the funds of the Fund for Philadelphia, PIDC and the Board of City Trusts was being used as a club to keep community leaders in line. When some of the community leaders that I had reached out to were seen as supporting my campaign they received phone calls from someone calling on Verna's behalf which felt threatening to those who received them (I cannot say whether they came from Verna's staff, or from her supporters, but they threatened or alluded to withholding money from their programs if they didn't fall in line). Does "board power" not then have financial implications for an incumbent?

There were numerous deals that I found while researching the City Trusts that I felt Philadelphians should know about: there were the coal mines, the real estate speculation, and the attempted deal where one of the Board's Center City properties would be converted into a Casino. But,what sealed the deal for me was when I realized that the Board of City Trusts had partnered on a several million dollar deal in South West Philadelphia, with PHCD and Presbyterian Homes. My district ought to know.

On March 13, the last day to file a petition challenge, I went back to Room 142 to get a copy of the financial statement. Again, they gave me a singular sheet. I brought the form to a fellow attorney, who hurriedly prepared a last minute complaint to set aside her petition. There were disagreements within my camp, but ultimately we decided that the apparent lack of transparency was problematic and that the cloak of secrecy surrounding the Board of City Trusts and its handling of hundreds-of-millions of city dollars ought to be lifted.

So I sat there in room 425 of City Hall ready to cross examine the Council President. I would force some admissions from her that would allow her to distinguish it from Carroll.

That was, until opposing counsel handed me the answer to the complaint, 10 minutes after lunch. I could argue against the case being summarily dismissed, but I couldn't argue against a second piece of paper that I had never seen before. This second piece of paper was a supplement that was time stamped at the same time as the first singular piece of paper that room 142 had given me.

Perhaps I trusted opposing counsel too quickly when I withdrew the case. Or perhaps I was happy not to proceed. But I had gone twice to get copies of the financial disclosure form and this was the first time I was seeing this form. All of a sudden, the supplemental form included the Board of City Trusts as well as other Board positions whose omission had compelled me to file the complaint.

I went to speak to the Council President to explain to her the situation, why I had filed suit and why I had withdrawn it. She agreed to see me right away. I explained to her it was nothing personal. She said that she could have challenged my petitions, but didn't. I told her there was nothing to challenge. She said she didn't think I had a shot for now. She said that she wasn't going anywhere and that I might be a good choice for the future. "Now's just not the time," she said. "We'll see", I replied. I wished her the best and excused myself. Inwardly, I was pissed that the first time the Council President was really acknowledging me was with me giving a groveling and unnecessary explanation.

On my way out of City Hall, I stopped by Room 142. The woman who had given me the copies of the financial statement was not there, so I asked to see a copy of the financial statement again. He explained that the originals were upstairs in court since they were at issue. "We came by twice for copies of the financial statement, " I said. "We never got the supplemental sheet." I said that I could understand that happening one time, but not twice. He said that sometimes the copies stick together.

When I left City Hall I saw a couple of city workers shoveling snow together. One was black and one was white, and they were working together to make Philadelphia a better place. And that simple image reminded me of why I am running for City Council.